


Make-Believe

by thirty2flavors



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study, Family Bonding, Gen, Gen Work, Pre-Series, feat. space one direction, non-threatening boys magazine, shitty tweens being tweens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirty2flavors/pseuds/thirty2flavors
Summary: “Man, this is all junk.” Fiona pointed to the page labelled Teenage Survival Guide: Fight Through Like A Warrior! and skimmed the content. “There’s nothing in here about snapping a neck. Or punching without breaking your fingers. Or making a shiv.”//Sasha & Fiona get a glimpse into another life from a stolen teen magazine.





	Make-Believe

**Author's Note:**

> This, like many fics, started as a tiny headcanon ("Sasha's embarrassing boyband crush") that morphed from this, into an entirely different present-day fic, and then back into this... Maybe one day I'll finish the other one too, as a sort of sequel. But for now I just wanted to get this out there and move on.

“Where did you get that?” Fiona demanded.

Because she was virtually grown-up—thirteen, in two months—and basically a professional, Sasha didn’t flinch, or jump, or do anything that might betray guilt. She sat perfectly still, her face unruffled, and continued reading the magazine in her hands.

“Felix’ll be pissed,” Fiona continued, still casting a shadow over the words her sister was squinting to read. “He said we’re not supposed to steal from that guy. They’re friends.”

“It was just sitting there at the back, dusty.” Felix’s friend probably didn’t even know he had it, and wouldn’t notice it was gone. But Sasha knew better than to bank on that alone: “I got you something, too.” 

She tossed Fiona a bottle of nail polish she dug from her pockets. Fiona caught it with ease, turning it over in her hands. Sasha recognized the thoughtful line that appeared on her sister’s forehead, and knew she was safe even before Fiona pocketed the bribe. 

“Huh,” was all Fiona said, in lieu of a thanks. The curiosity in her raised eyebrow was innocent this time—or at least as innocent as anything with Fiona ever was. “So what’s it about?” 

She plunked down beside Sasha, peering curiously over her shoulder. Sasha shrugged, unsure how to reply. 

“Gimme,” said Fiona. Without waiting for a reply she tugged it out of Sasha’s hands and into her own lap. She flipped through the pages impatiently, the distasteful wrinkle of her nose growing deeper with each page. 

The magazine was filled with all manner of things unfamiliar to Sasha. It was thin, and each page was glossy, coloured paper, chock full of photos and bright colours. There were pages and pages on fashion trends Sasha had never seen before. An advice column on managing the social pressures of school dances. Low-calorie alternatives Sasha had never heard of to desserts Sasha had never tasted. A quiz promised to tell her which planet she’d meet her soulmate on. (Sasha got Dionysus; Pandora wasn’t even in the answer key.) 

To Sasha, every single word was baffling, foreign, and absolutely captivating. She tried to picture herself reading it somewhere nice—Eden-5, maybe. She’d be dripping in the fancy jewelry from the full-page advertisements, wearing brand-new clothing she’d bought from a store instead of made at home. Scouring the party tips so she could plan a thirteenth birthday party the envy of the inner planets.

It was a glimpse into another life, one as distant from Sasha’s reality as her Dionysian soulmate. 

She loved it. 

“Man, this is all junk.” Fiona pointed to the page labelled _Teenage Survival Guide: Fight Through Like A Warrior!_ and skimmed the content. “There’s nothing in here about snapping a neck. Or punching without breaking your fingers. Or making a shiv.” She pitched her voice higher as she read tip #8. “‘If someone’s making you uncomfortable, tell them! If they don’t stop, they’re not a real friend.’ Who’s that supposed to help?” She turned to her sister. “Sash, if someone’s bothering you, punch ‘em in the neck and steal their wallet.”

“Duh,” said Sasha, who, at twelve-and-three-quarters, had plenty of experience doing both. 

But she felt a prickle of doubt anyway. Maybe people on nice planets didn’t know that, because maybe people on nice planets didn’t get bothered so much. Maybe they didn’t _need_ to know that. 

Then Fiona flipped to the next page and burst out laughing. “Oh my god, who are these losers?”

Sasha knew without looking which page Fiona had found. 

The entire double-page spread was dedicated to a picture of five boys, four of whom were smiling broadly and one of whom had his lips pulled into a serious-looking pout. Their clothes looked brand-new, and Sasha recognized a few of the trends she’d read about on the earlier pages. Sasha guessed they were about the same age as Fiona, but they looked a little younger. They probably didn’t know how to snap necks, either.

“ _Boy Garden_?” Fiona laughed. “What the hell kind of name is that?” 

She flipped to the next page, where each boy had a solo portrait and a short Q&A. Taylor’s best birthday gift was his first guitar. Barry’s secret talent was baking cakes. Eli’s favourite smell was vanilla. 

Sasha pressed her head against Fiona’s arm to see the page better, even though she’d already studied it closely, amazed at the glimpse of celebrity so at odds with Pandora. Fiona was right; every one of their answers betrayed a simple, happy life, the likes of which Sasha could barely fathom. 

“Look at this jerk.” Fiona jabbed her thumb at the boy with the pout, reading the caption with a mock whiny voice. “‘My name is Jayden, my favourite sound is thunder and my favourite colour is blood’. Give me a break. I bet he’s never even had a nosebleed.”

Sasha giggled. “I bet he’s never even punched anyone.”

“I bet he’s never even _been_ punched.” 

“Or fired a gun.” 

“Or talked to a psycho.”

“Or outrun a bandit.”

“Or stolen anything.”

“Or eaten garbage pizza,” Sasha said, frowning suddenly. 

“Hey, that pizza wasn’t so bad,” Fiona teased, nudging Sasha with her elbow. “It was still in the box! That’s basically new.”

Sasha ignored her. “I bet he’s so rich he can have pizza every day. I bet he can eat whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. I bet—”

“I bet he’s an idiot,” Fiona interrupted firmly. “I bet he can’t do half the things we can. I bet he’d be dead in ten minutes down here.” She swiped her hand across the page. “They all would.” 

It was probably true, but it didn’t matter. They’d never have to come to Pandora and find out. They could all stay where they were, eating great food, wearing trendy clothes and swimming in their pools of money. All people like Sasha would know about it would be Q&As in stolen magazines. 

She only shrugged. Fiona turned the page. 

“Ooh, a quiz,” said Fiona, in her let’s-change-the-subject voice. “‘Which Boy Garden boy should YOU date?’ Ugh. I hope there’s an answer for ‘none of them’.”

Fiona read each question aloud, complete with different sneering tones for each answer. What’s your ideal date: a romantic dinner, a concert, a movie, a trip to the bookstore? What’s your favourite meal? What’s your ideal present? What kind of clothes should your date wear?

Fiona rolled her eyes at every possible scenario and every possible answer. “Who cares if a guy burps? These guys are rich, why would I want flowers? Give me cold hard cash. What kind of creep writes songs for people?”

Sasha laughed along, caught up in her sister’s jokes. It was a silly quiz, with silly answers and silly results that meant nothing. Not only would Sasha never meet any of these boys, she’d never even meet anyone _like_ them. 

Fiona tabulated her own results first.

“Ugh, _Jayden_? The blood boy?” She scrunched up her nose and stuck out her tongue to emphasize her disgust. “Awful. I am definitely stealing his car.” Then she turned to Sasha, wiggling her eyebrows. “What about you? Who’re you stuck with?”

Sasha nibbled thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she retraced through the questions, adding up A’s and B’s and C’s. Then her stomach lurched a little and she hesitated, already anticipating Fiona’s response. “I think… Corey?”

“Who?” 

Fiona flipped back a couple pages to the profiles, but Sasha already knew which one he was. Corey had soft-looking hair and a gentle smile. Of all of them, he looked like the one who’d get his ass kicked first on Pandora. 

Sasha thought he looked kind. 

Predictably, Fiona’s jaw dropped. “ _Him_? Oh my god, he’s like, the lamest of the lame. He says his deepest secret is that he’s scared of the dark.” Fiona’s voice was half-laughing as she dug in. “Sash, he looks like he cries at sunsets. He looks like he presses flowers for fun. He looks like… like…” Fiona fumbled, too overcome with disdain to even articulate it. “What the hell did you choose?” 

Cheeks burning, Sasha held her chin high. “Yours is worse,” she insisted. “He said his favourite sound is thunder, remember?”

“Yeah, well, Corey here is probably scared of thunderstorms, so…” Fiona’s eyes lit up suddenly, a wickedness in her grin as she elbowed Sasha’s shoulder. “Aw, just like you! Maybe you _are_ a good match.”

Sasha scowled. “I am not scared of storms.”

“You so are!”

“I’m not! You—you said there was special cave lightning, but I asked Felix and he told me that’s not true, and—”

Fiona was laughing outright now, and she jumped to her feet with the magazine in hand, out of Sasha’s reach. “You two can cuddle up together with a night-light.” She lifted the double-page spread photo in front of her face like a mask and made gross, squelchy kissing sounds. 

“Shut _up_.” Sasha leapt at her, but Fiona dangled the magazine overhead and out of reach, laughing. “Give me that!” 

“Oooh, Sasha, it’s so scary and dark down here, hold my hand—”

The trap door on the roof opened with a thud, and both girls froze, Fiona on her tiptoes, Sasha’s hand fisted on Fiona’s shirt as she tried to climb higher.

“Girls,” said Felix, in a voice Sasha recognized as danger, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” they chimed in unison; Sasha let go of Fiona’s shirt, and Fiona sank down to her normal height, magazine at her side. 

Felix gave them his I’m-not-a-mark stare. “And where did you get that?” 

Fiona handed it over, glumly shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Sasha looked at her shoes, bracing for the inevitable. Felix would lecture her about sticky fingers in the wrong places, and how she needed to be smarter than that, and how a dumb magazine wasn’t worth damaging a relationship with that trader, and—

“I took it,” said Fiona, before Felix said anything else. 

Sasha’s head snapped up, looking at Fiona and then looking at Felix, but Felix, busy flipping through the pages of the magazine, didn’t even notice.

“I know you said not to touch anything,” Fiona continued, “but—”

“These are hard to get on Pandora,” he said. “Which means they go for a lot of money.” Then he shook his head. “That man doesn’t know what he has half the time.” He looked up and smiled. “Good job, Fiona.”

Sasha’s mouth dropped open. Fiona saluted him with two fingers. 

“Dinner will be ready in five,” he added. 

With that, he disappeared back down the ladder, magazine in hand, the door falling shut behind him. Sasha blinked at the spot where he’d been, then crossed her arms, glowering down at the roof beneath her feet.

“So…” Fiona rocked on her heels and raked a hand through her hair, then pulled the bottle of nail polish out of her pocket. “Manicure after dinner?”

Her voice was an almost-apology, the closest Fiona ever got to the real thing. The grown-up part of Sasha knew it wasn’t Fiona’s fault. It knew Fiona had been trying to take the blame, not the credit neither of them anticipated in the first place. 

Still, Sasha ignored the peace offering, arms crossed tight against her chest, bottom lip jutting out beneath her teeth. 

The snub broke Fiona’s thin patience, and she huffed. “Whatever. What do you need a dumb magazine like that for, anyway?”

“It’s not dumb just because you don’t get it,” Sasha snapped.

“I _do_ get it,” Fiona insisted. “That’s why it’s dumb.” She threw open the trap door. “Who wants to look at a bunch of stuff we’re never gonna have and some losers you’re never gonna meet? You're too old for fairytales.”

She was gone without waiting for an answer, but it didn't matter; Sasha didn’t have one anyway. She stood on the roof for several minutes more, waiting until Felix’s third angry call before climbed down the ladder for dinner.

* * *

Sasha ate in silence—not that Felix and Fiona noticed, plotting their next job all through the evening. Sometimes she wondered if they even noticed she was there. 

Still fuming over the confiscated magazine and Fiona’s condescension, Sasha took her vengeance out on her food, stabbing every bite with her fork so hard the plate squeaked. The stuff in the magazine might not have been real to them, but it was real to someone, somewhere. 

What was wrong with wanting to pretend? They did it all the time anyway, in the stupid jobs they dreamed up. 

That night, Sasha couldn’t get comfortable. The air in the caravan was hot and stuffy. The booth felt harder than normal, and her back hurt, and Fiona was doing that weird half-snore that made Sasha want to shove a pillow on her face. By the time she fell asleep, the embers of anger and disappointment were still burning in her belly.

Knocked awake by something hitting her feet, Sasha sat up with all sorts of things to yell on the tip of her tongue—and then something fluttered off her lap and landed on the floor. Curiosity taking precedent, she picked it off the floor and unfolded the double-page spread of the band poster. 

Dumbfounded, Sasha squinted through the darkness at the happy faces in the poster. She looked over at her sister, sound asleep at the other end of the booth.

Huh, Sasha thought, running her finger over the edge of the page where it’d been neatly torn away. As she laid back down, she thought she saw Fiona smile.

Maybe Fiona did get it, just a little.

With great care and precision, Sasha folded the poster neatly into a square, then tucked it under her sweater for safekeeping.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr: [@oodlyenough](http://oodlyenough.tumblr.com/), tell me which member of space one direction you want to date, et cetera


End file.
